Mixed Batch of Emotions
by laurzz
Summary: Everlark, post mockingjay. one-shot. Peeta tries to teach Katniss how to bake. With disastrous results. "Peeta, don't!" she cried. "The kitchen is already a mess!" "Well, if the kitchen's already a mess there's no harm in making sure you're wearing the rest of this bag, right?"


**Hi everyone, I've been lurking on here for numerous months, catching up on all the _amazing _stories that have posted and I have literally been blown away! I read all three books in less than a month a while back and once I finished Mockingjay I knew I needed more, so naturally, first stop was both here and tumblr. And you guys did not disappoint. I am in awe of all of the stories I've found so far. But, as a fanfic writer for different fandoms (I say fandoms, just csi:ny really) my little plot bunny/muse (who I have affectionately named Fred,) couldn't help but want to join in. I have written a few things for everlark, but when it came to posting them****, I've chickened out each time. This idea came to me a few weeks ago though and it's been a work in progress since then. With this in mind this is a huge step for me and I am a little scared and nervous. I've held onto it for weeks and I figure it's just time to post it and do it.**

**Now, obviously there are thousands of incredible stories out there and I'm not deluded enough to believe that this is the first story of it's kind –(they do say great minds think alike!) but I do want to just make sure that this idea did come to me and I can honestly say I have not intentionally taken somebody else's story on purpose (trust me, I've had it done and it suuuuuucks.) so if this is familiar to a story you have written, I am genuinely sorry! But hopefully it isn't like anything and you guys enjoy it!**

* * *

"No Katniss; hold the bowl with one hand and mix with the other. Don't mix with both hands."

"Peeta, there's a reason why you're the baker. I'm going to mess this up, I'd much rather you just-"

"Katniss…" his tone was warning.

"But Peeta, I just-"

"Katniss, mix the damn ingredients together. I'm not asking for much."

"You are," she said, muttering under her breath.

The idea had sprung itself onto Peeta about an hour ago and he'd been fixated ever since. For some ungodly reason, he'd felt the need to teach Katniss how to bake. He'd been sitting quietly, drawing one of his old school friends in the memory book before he'd snapped it shut randomly, stood, and headed to the kitchen. She'd left him to it; deciding against following him if he needed a moment to himself but when she heard clattering and banging, she worried that perhaps the kitchen wasn't the best place for him to be alone. She followed him and tentatively stood in the doorway to the kitchen they now shared but was confused at the sight in front of her. He was grabbing flour, sugar and eggs along with other ingredients. She'd asked him what he was doing and he'd simply smirked in her direction.

Now she knew why. He had clearly been plotting to enforce pure torture upon her.

"Peeta, I'd really rather you do this. I'm quite happy hunting for us. You bake, I hunt."

"I'm teaching you how to bake so that I can finally take the bow and arrow. I thought you knew." She arched her eyebrows at him as he stood, solemn and serious. Just like he had in the arena when he last teased her about taking her bow, his resolve slipped quickly and he let out a chuckle. "I'm kidding… but seriously Katniss, just open your mind up to this for a minute. Wouldn't it be good knowing how to bake something by yourself? You could just make whatever then; you wouldn't need me."

She swallowed as she absorbed his words - she knew he didn't mean his words literally, of course she needed him. She needed him to survive. Without him, she didn't know how to be herself. She floundered when he was away from her. She panicked and often felt anxiety rising within her when he was working at the newly built bakery. She would spend many hours working herself into a frenzy, convincing herself that he had somehow slipped back into the Peeta she'd met when he returned from the Capitol after being hijacked. She'd do a good job of convincing herself that she had lost him and he'd just choose against coming home to her… and right as she hit her highest level of panic – he'd walk through the door with a smile on his face. She needed him in so many ways; ways that she had originally thought unimaginable. He brought out the best in her. The rational side of her knew that he meant that she wouldn't need him to make them supper; her face however took longer to process that than her brain and before she could wipe the emotions from her features, his face fell. "I didn't… mean it like _that, _Katniss. "

"I know." She nodded, picking up the wooden spoon reluctantly. "But just so we're clear… I _do_ need you."

"I know." He said, his hand cupping hers as he took the spoon. She was about to let go when she felt his grip tighten around her hand. He began the motions in mixing the ingredients together –something she had royally failed at so far; catapulting the dusty flour over the edges, making it land on the counter top in messy piles. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he wrapped his arms around her so that he had more control over their hand movements. She arched her eyebrows as he reached for the small bag of flour, pouring some more into the bowl.

"More?" Katniss implored, as if she knew what she was talking about.

"Well yeah… you've managed to get the majority of the flour I originally put in bowl on the counter, so we need to replenish the ratio."

"Alright," she rolled her eyes. "I told you I'm no good at this."

"Katniss, you're good at everything you set your mind to. If you actually tried, you'd be good at this. You might even enjoy it… you just won't give it a chance."

She scoffed as he began a quicker whisk of the ingredients together. She watched as he moved their hands quicker – and it instantly made sense as to where his strong, defined arms had come from. The force and power that he was mixing the ingredients with made Katniss feel dizzy. Her arm was already aching and their combined mixing speed was doing the ache no favours. He was effortless in his motions though. He had the bowl steady and the mixture was quickly becoming a smooth concoction of what Katniss could only imagine tasted like heaven.

"Pour this in," Peeta said, letting go of the bowl for a moment as he stopped stirring the mixture and handed her a spoonful of something he'd poured out earlier. It was a brown liquid that was currently resting in a deep spoon. He handed the spoon to her carefully and she held it still; staring at the liquid suspiciously.

"What is it?" Katniss finally asked when she couldn't decipher what it was.

"Vanilla. It'll make it sweeter." He said as he began mixing again.

"I know what vanilla does." She scoffed as she dumped it into the bowl. "I just didn't recognise it in liquid form. You usually use those pod things."

"Oh, Katniss," Peeta chuckled as he pressed a kiss to her exposed shoulder. He moved their hands with a slower pace, gradually moving towards a complete halt.

"What did I do now?" She rolled her eyes.

"Nothing… except-" he smirked as she eyed him with a scowl. "You're about as heavy handed as I am heavy footed."

"You said pour it in," she pointed out. "That's what I did."

Peeta shook his head with a smile on his face as he ran his pinkie finger into the mixture. He cleaned his finger with his tongue, tasting the concoction they had made together. He nodded, clearly pleased with the taste. He then dipped his finger back in and held it against Katniss' lips. Her tongue instantly ducked out, licking his finger clean. The sweetness and smoothness of the mixture earned Peeta some appreciative groans from Katniss. "And that is why you do the baking and not me." She told him, matter of factly.

"You're such a kill-joy sometimes." Peeta teased her. "I try and teach you a life skill and you through it back in my face. Rude."

"This is me ignoring you," she said with a smirk as she extracted herself from between the counter-top and his arms. She headed over to the sink and began to wash her hands. "So now what?"

"We put it into the tin." He said, greasing the baking dish he was about to pour the mixture into. Katniss watched his precision as he ensured every inch was greased to perfection.

"And then?"

Peeta turned away from what he'd been concentrating on to study Katniss as she dried her hands. His mouth dipped open slightly, causing her to be filled with irritation. "What?" When he didn't answer, she rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Peeta, why are you staring at me?"

"We bake it." he said finally, a hint of amusement in his tone as he turned back to pouring the mixture into the cake tin. She watched him carefully from the other side of the kitchen and smiled when she saw his tongue peek out of his mouth, wetting his chapped lips as he focused his attention on the task at hand. He was trying to ensure the level of the mixture was perfect across the tin and she watched as he smoothed it out with a clean knife that sat nearby. His brow furrowed in concentration and she couldn't help but smile. She liked to watch Peeta work when he was baking something. It was a side she'd rarely seen of him, and she felt regret fill her at the thought of it. She knew he had baked when they had returned home from the arena, along with his painting. Half of it was a distraction and a coping mechanism for what they had seen during the games, but the other half was to take his mind off the fact that she'd shut him out. She'd reaped some of his baking benefits when he'd brought her various treats across to her old house she'd shared with her mother and Prim. When he had been taken from the arena by the Capitol, she sometimes dreamt of the cheese buns he'd made for her; she'd be surrounded by them – being taunted by the smells. Often in her dreams, she was back underneath the tree outside the Mellark's bakery and she'd try and reach out for them, to satisfy her hunger, but they'd always be too far away from her to be able to grasp them. Just like Peeta had been when he was trapped in the Capitol. It felt like he was so close to her, but she just couldn't get to him. She couldn't save him. So now, seeing him bake freely in their kitchen, with only the threat of their own personal struggles and trauma to come between them and nothing else… well, it provided her with a sense of comfort and normalcy; something that they hadn't had much experience of.

"You're staring at me again." Peeta's teasing tone sounded, breaking Katniss from her reverie.

She fought desperately for a smart comment in response, but instead, she felt her cheeks burning and her throat close up. She'd be just fine in providing a smart response in about an hour, which would be of no use then. With Gale she'd always been able to retort back and it would be delivered with a sting, but with Peeta, she didn't have that fiery retaliation. There had always been something about Peeta that made her calm but all tongue tied at the same time– which didn't take much at the best of times anyway.

"So what if I am?" She finally retorted after a good few moments of consideration.

"Nothing… I didn't say it was a bad thing." He smirked in her direction before turning his attention back to the cake tin. "I think you're going to really like this."

"I love everything you bake," Katniss said quietly as he resumed his work. She watched him bend his artificial leg slightly, using it to scratch an itch on his remaining leg. She narrowed her eyes as she watched the ways in which he moved so effortlessly. He was so accustomed to his leg now it was any wonder he hadn't always had it. She could still remember the first time she'd seen him after they'd returned home from the games. They were being filmed by the Capitol cameras and she'd originally started her walk towards him but as she got closer to reuniting with him, she'd ended up running – sprinting in fact. When she had finally reached him, she'd thrown herself at him and although he had caught her fine, he'd slipped on the recent snowfall and they had landed in a heap. She could remember him cursing himself and the artificial leg back then; still so angry with the loss of his own limb. She'd been so cold and angry with the cameras she'd had to wave into, but she'd also felt happy and safe and she knew that was because of Peeta; even though she'd hurt him in so many ways – he was still there for her. She couldn't fault him for that back then and even more so now. Of course, he still had bad days where it hurt, and he'd never get away from his heavy tread, but day to day, he was doing well and she was proud of him.

His voice stirred her attention away from her trance like state once again as she felt him prod her nose. She hadn't even realised he'd closed the distance between them but she quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close.

"So how long will it take?" Katniss questioned.

"Oh, because you're going to remember to check on it?" Peeta countered. "Don't worry, I got it."

"I thought you were supposed to be teaching me how to bake." She replied, petulantly.

"Yeah well, you're a rubbish student. Worst I've ever had."

"Well you're not exactly the best teacher."

"Is that right?" he folded his arms over his chest. "I'm sure I've taught you things in the past that you learnt quite quickly… and seem to excel in now, but it's okay… I'll remember that."

Katniss rolled her eyes as she shrugged away from him with a smile on her face. She made her way over to the counter top where she'd spilt, what now seemed like, mountains of flour. She sighed heavily as she began brushing the flour into her cupped hands when she felt Peeta's arms wrap around her waist. She jumped in shock and she ended up dropping the flour, letting it flutter back down to the counter top. "Look at what you made me do!" she scoffed as she began the process again. He squeezed her hips with his warm hands and she turned, dragging a floury fingertip over his nose before she prodded it firmly. "Stop!" she cried playfully.

The flour settled on his nose and just as she turned around again, Peeta sneezed, the flour clearly infiltrating his nose and irritating it. She watched from the corner of her eye as his hand shot down to the counter top, covering itself in flour before she watched it move towards her.

"No!" she cried, gripping his wrist with her hand; thankful for her quick reflexes.

"You started it!" Peeta cried out. He was still in her grip and Katniss knew he was letting her hold him in place. There had been a time where she would have fought the accusation that he was stronger than her, but between the two of them, they both knew he was far stronger than she was. She'd seen him lift bags of flour that she guessed weighed more than her. Not to mention the guys he used to compete against on the wrestling team. She knew that he was more than capable in closing the distance between her face and his floury hand – he was just choosing against it, which was something that didn't surprise Katniss in the slightest as she knew exactly what Peeta was thinking – he didn't want to hurt her. And it was instances like this when Haymitch's words that Peeta was too good for her surfaced, before she pushed them back down again.

"I'm sorry." She said, standing up on her tiptoes as she pressed a kiss to his upturned, pouty lips. "Please don't."

"Fine." He sighed as he wiggled his wrist from her grasp as he wiped his hand on his pants. "I forgive you."

She smiled victoriously as she made to move back to the countertop to collect the flour again. As she did so, he went to wrap his arms around her but hit a particularly ticklish spot and she jumped again – this time sending the flour flying everywhere.

"Peeta!" she cried in frustration. Without thinking, her hand dipped into the bag of flour. She got a small handful of the fine, milled flour and threw it at him. "Stop it!"

She was expecting a playful and amused reaction and was slightly unnerved when Peeta simply stood in front of her, his clothes full of flour, his face unreadable.

"Peeta…" she said, her voice quiet and unnerved. She cleared her throat as she nudged him. "Peeta?"

She saw his head moving slightly from side to side and she swallowed tensely. She hoped and prayed she hadn't triggered an episode – she hadn't meant to, she'd only been playing around… but now, she closed her eyes and cursed herself. It was often the instant change in his demeanour and mood that alerted Katniss to an oncoming episode. And when she had to sit and stare at the boy she loved fight his demons, she felt the hate she tried so hard to suppress, rise again. Even with him dead she hated him. She hated Snow. He had taken her Peeta. The Peeta she'd barely got to know before the Quarter Quell would have laughed; played around with her. Even though she probably wouldn't have been all that playful in the first place. It just wasn't fair. She sucked in a breath as she prepared herself to talk him round with the usual promises of 'not real, it's not real Peeta'; holding onto him as he held onto the counter. She closed her eyes to prepare herself briefly and when she opened them fully, a split second later, Peeta was no longer in front of her but he was at the side of her; a fist filled with flour. So much so, it was seeping through his knuckles.

"Peeta, what are you doing with that?"

His silence unnerved her, but his smirk gave her a little bit of hope.

"Peeta…"

Still – nothing.

"Peeta Mellark!" she cried as he edged closer to her, he definitely wasn't having an episode – and for that she was relieved… she was however concerned about the handful of flour he held in his grip. "Peeta no, don't! I – it was an accident… I didn't-"

It was too late. She didn't even manage to finish the sentence. She watched with a wide, opened mouth as Peeta held his hand over her head and opened it – unceremoniously dumping the flour onto her braided hair.

"Peeta!" she cried in frustration, coughing and spluttering as the flour fluttered down to the floor around her. Without thinking, she grabbed a handful of flour and threw it into Peeta's face. "Jerk!"

Peeta wiped the flour from his face before grinning at Katniss. He shook his head as he quickly grabbed the bag from the counter. He cradled it in his arms and eyed her suspiciously as he backed away from her.

"Peeta, don't!" she cried. "The kitchen is already a mess!"

"Well, if the kitchen's already a mess there's no harm in making sure you're wearing the rest of this bag, right?"

"Think of the waste though," she was trying a last ditch attempt to bring him to his senses – even if she _had_ started it.

"Too late," he smirked as he pushed his hand into the bag and pulled some flour out in his fist. He opened up his hand and she watched as the flour lay on his palm – almost as if it was taunting her. Before she could react, he blew softly, sending the flour right into her face, hair and clothes.

"Peeta!" Katniss shrieked, brushing her face clean of the flour. Without another thought, she moved to the counter top and scraped up the remaining flour that she'd wasted and cupped it in her hands. Realising her intentions, Peeta took off through the kitchen; the bag of flour still nestled in the crook of his arm as he avoided Katniss and her mission to seek revenge.

She launched the flour she had in her hand randomly across the kitchen, hoping for it to land on Peeta but she missed completely; ensuring that the nothing other than the floor was covered in the white dusting. She lurched towards him, grappling for the bag of flour. She managed to wrap her fingertips around the paper bag and she tugged it towards her – but just at the same time, Peeta grabbed it and tried to keep it close to him also. As a result, the bag tore and a puff of white flour filled the air between the two of them – covering them both head to two in the powdery substance. Katniss coughed as the flour settled on them and she placed her hands on her hips, clearly annoyed with their current states. Peeta lamely held the now empty bag of flour in his hand, looking sheepish. He brushed the back of his floured hand across his lips and exhaled heavily with a smile. "Well, that escalated quickly."

"For goodness sake Peeta, I-"

"What the hell has been going on in here?"

In the game of chase and the ruckus between the two of them, they had failed to hear their front door opening and closing again. They'd also failed to hear the loud, stumbling footsteps of their mentor and friend, Haymitch, as he wandered into the kitchen. He stood, examining the damage with his blood-shot eyes and couldn't help but shake his head. "I guess this is better than one of you trying to kill the other. Although, I don't know which outcome would be messier… I feel like it could be this."

"There's still time to find out." Katniss growled as she shot a death glare towards Peeta.

"I suppose it's not a good time to ask you both if you were making dinner then?" Haymitch asked hopefully.

"No." they shot back in unison.

"We're a little delayed in making food for you tonight," Peeta snapped, Katniss' bad mood rubbing off on him.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Haymitch growled under his breath. "I wish I hadn't bothered. Bring me over something when you're done killing him, will ya, sweetheart?"

"Haymitch!" Katniss growled at him, hinting for him to leave. He took the hint instantly and turned on his heel, stalking off back through their house to return to his geese. Katniss watched him leave, sighing as she watched his shoes leave a few floured footprints leading from the kitchen to the hallway. She jumped when the door slammed behind their neighbour and she let her heart rate settle again before she sent another scowl in Peeta's direction. When she was happy that he was fully informed that she was pissed off with the state of their kitchen, she turned on her heel and went to gather the sweeping brush.

She began sweeping the flour into piles the best she could, muttering under her breath. She wasn't entirely sure why she was so angry with him because essentially, she had been the one to start their little frolic with the flour. She exhaled through her nose gruffly, and she finally heard Peeta's heavy footsteps behind her. She braced herself for his arms to take hold of her waist again, like he had before, but instead, she felt the brush being taken from her grip.

"You go and wash off. I'll do this. I made the mess."

"I helped." She said tensely, before sighing. "In fact, I think I started it."

"Yeah well, I clearly finished it. It's okay, I don't mind. Go take a shower. You need to get the flour out of your hair before it tangles and knots."

"I can help you though." She offered, feeling the anger and rage slowly dissipating from her person. He offered her a ghost of a smile as he passed her the brush back. She continued on with sweeping the floors as he went to collect a dustpan and he began brushing the flour from the floor into the dustpan.

Her peripheral vision focused on the flour that needed to be swept up, but her eyes focused in on him, knelt in front of her as he collected the flour she was brushing towards him. Even though she could feel the anger within herself, she knew it wasn't because she was angry with him. She got like this sometimes. She knew this feeling well. When she was trapped in District 13, stowed away in a cupboard somewhere, she felt this anger within her. Back then, she had been overwhelmed with grief and despair. She was desperate to get to Peeta, to save him, but there had been so many roadblocks in her way she was left feeling like she was spiralling. In reflection, she understood why her mother had struggled all those years ago when her father had died; she now knew first-hand how unbearable it was to lose someone you love. She had never meant to love Peeta. Never. She only wanted to help him, save him. But she ended up loving him. And when he was taken from her – she was just so angry with herself, and everyone, for letting her fall in love with someone; especially someone as good and kind as Peeta. She depended on Peeta, relied on him - and she hated it. With the help of Dr Aurelius, she was able to identify the anger washing over her through the years. When she was particularly carefree and happy, part of her would make sure didn't forget about everything that had happened. She would argue with herself, making sure that she knew she didn't deserve to be happy. While Prim laid in the meadow, under the willow, she had no right to laugh, smile and be silly with Peeta. It should be Prim being happy and carefree. She should have never left the arena after the first Hunger Games, let alone the second. The odds weren't supposed to be in her favour; and they definitely weren't supposed to be in her favour _twice. _But somehow, they had been.

She also knew that when she suspected Peeta slipping into an episode, she also slipped into her own version of one. She'd be gripped with fear, terrified that she'd lose him. She was afraid that one particularly bad episode would send him spiralling back to the form he had been when they had originally rescued him from the Capitol. She never, ever wanted to see that version of Peeta again. Her Peeta was so thoughtful and loving that seeing him so broken had in fact broken her – which she knew was the exact intention of his hijacking. When she had thrown the flour at him and he hadn't laughed or thrown it back right away, she'd instantly slipped into that notion of fear and terror that he was going to disappear from her. That he'd slip through her fingertips. She wanted to keep hold of him so badly that the thought of losing him overwhelmed her. It suffocated her. It angered her. She hated being so dependent on him. She suffered severely when he was suffering from an episode because she knew he needed her – she didn't have time to panic about losing him – she needed to fight to get him back; uttering whatever she could to try and convince him it wasn't real. Some things she heard him say terrified her. And when he was back to himself, minutes, hours, or on a few occasions, days later – she'd finally break down at let herself cry at the pain she'd watched him go through and of the crippling fear that she could have lost him yet again.

When all was said and done, they were only 22 years old. She wasn't old, but she sure felt like it. Peeta was the only thing in the world she had left, other than Haymitch. She had her mother, yes, but she knew that her mother would never, ever recover the loss she had suffered. She lost both her children when Prim was reaped. She hadn't known it then, but Katniss would never come back that Katniss she had left as. She'd always be broken, terrified, _insane. _ She'd always have the nightmares. The nightmares that kept her up at night. Peeta was the only constant in her life, and even he was battling his own Capitol demons.

"Katniss, not real. Not real, Katniss."

She blinked and physically shook her head as Peeta's soothing voice broke through her walls. _Not real? Was she having an episode? _"Was I…?"

"No," Peeta said, shaking his head, clearly understanding her unfinished question. "But you've brushed the same tile for the last five minutes. I wondered if you… I thought that you… are you okay?"

"I'm tired, Peeta," She admitted, "I'm tired of being afraid."

"Afraid?" His eyebrows arched in shock, "What are you afraid of?"

"An episode taking you away from me." She blurted out. She swallowed thickly as her words visibly registered on his features. He frowned instantly and his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, I just-" she wanted to add more but found that the words disappeared on her tongue.

"Don't be," he said softly. "Because that scares me too. I've worked so hard to be with you, it scares me that one bad episode could ruin everything. When you're saying 'not real' it takes everything in me to believe you. I'm scared that one day it'll be so bad that I won't be able to believe you."

Katniss sunk her teeth into her lip and exhaled a shaky breath. "I hate that we can't even bake together in our own kitchen without feeling like he's suffocating us. He's been dead for five years now! Why isn't this getting any easier, Peeta, why aren't we better?"

"We're never going to be better, Katniss."

"But I want us to be better." Her voice was breaking with her unshed emotions. "I want the nightmares and the episodes to go away."

"It won't ever be easy for us. But we'll make it okay, we will."

"I just want to be happy with you. I want Prim,I want Finnick for Annie, and your brothers and everyone that we've lost. It's just so unfair Peeta," she said in a whisper, dropping the sweeping brush so it clattered on the floor. "It's so unfair."

He took her in his arms and pressed her head against his chest with his hands. He wrapped her in a protective shield, squeezing her to him so that she didn't have to hide her face as she shed her tears. He felt her trembling against him and while he wanted to remove them from the kitchen to somewhere more comfortable and settling for Katniss, he decided it would be better to contain their mess. He broke away from her momentarily so that he could scoop his arms underneath her legs and he swept her up into the air so that he could lower the two of them to the floor. He sat on the clean tile that Katniss had brushed for five minutes solid and held her like he had when the Jabberjays mimicked Prim's screams during their second games. He placed his hand through her braid, freeing the majority of her hair and dislodging some of the flour as she buried her face in his chest. He could see the flour on his shirt now clumping together because of her tears and he pressed a kiss to the top of Katniss' head, whispering words of reassurance he was positive she didn't hear.

He held her close, trying to take her pain away. He knew exactly the pain she was feeling and while he hated it, he was glad that he could understand and try to help her. He was the only one that had been there through it all. He could only dream when he was younger to hold Katniss in this way, but he would do anything now to make it on a better circumstance. He hated what they had become. Well, he didn't hate what _they _had become. They were strong, resilient, brave. They were fighters. He never thought of himself as a fighter, but he was. He had fought for Katniss. He had fought to live. He had fought against the Capitol and they had won. He hated what the Capitol had made them; what Snow had inflicted on them. He hated how he gripped onto a chair, fighting urges to hurt the girl he loved so dearly – because of Snow. Because of his twisted, messed up games. He hated how Katniss fought through the haze that gathered in his eyes during an episode, desperate to bring him back to their reality. Most of all, he hated seeing Katniss cry. He knew she hurt over the loss of wonderful, sweet Prim, and he would do anything – give anything – to bring Prim back. If he could change anything from the last decade, he'd save Prim. But he couldn't; all he could do was hold Katniss as she cried for the loss of everything she'd ever had. He knew she often cried over the loss of what he used to be. Katniss had never been a crier, always a fighter, but since they had returned to rebuild their life in 12, he'd seen her cry more times than he could ever wish to count.

He felt her settle against his chest and he heard her take her deep breath – signalling that she had once again cried her tears. As he suspected, she moved away from him and he wiped his hands down her face, removing the tear tracks from her cheeks. "Okay?" he asked her.

She nodded silently, choosing against answering him. She instead wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her face against his shoulder. It was where she sought out comfort from him. He knew she felt safe there, tucked away from the world and he was only happy to help her feel safe.

He removed the hair tie at the end of her braid and he slowly worked through the braid as he unravelled the hair. He brushed the flour from her thick tresses and he smiled as it fluttered down around them. His arms then set to work on brushing down her sleeves and her scarred arms from the flour that littered on her skin. She jumped as his hands brushed over her marred skin and he took a moment to cup her face with his hands. He stared at her pointedly, urging her to relax as he moved back to his task of removing the flour from her skin. He watched as she swallowed, clearly becoming slightly more at ease with his actions. Her own hands began to track paths through his hair and she even managed a little giggle as the mounds of flour that had been hidden and ingrained within his blonde curls exploded above them as she rubbed her fingers through his hair.

"There's the laugh I love." He smiled up at her as she settled herself on his lap. "It might take us ten, twenty or thirty years Katniss. We might not ever be better; but we'll be okay."

"I don't want it to take thirty years though, Peeta." Katniss said softly.

"We've just got to play the game, Katniss… but this time, we've got to let it change us. Let nature take its course. So long as we're together, we'll be okay."

Katniss swallowed and felt comfort settling in the pit of her stomach. She would have once recoiled at his words. Rejected him, pushed him away and denied every feeling she felt towards him, but wrapped in his arms on the floor of their kitchen, she could feel nothing but love. She inhaled softly and her nose alerted her to the smells surrounding them. "Uh, Peeta?"

"Yeah?"

She stood up and made her way over to the oven, he followed suit and smacked his palm against his forehead as he watched her pull the cake tin out of the oven with the flour covered oven mitt. In front of them was a very well done – if not burnt - cake.

"What was that about you keeping your eye on it?" Katniss smirked as she placed the cake tin and the oven mitt on the counter top on the flour covered cooling rack.

"I was distracted." Peeta rubbed the back of his neck.

She smiled softly at him as she closed the distance between them and placed a kiss to his lips. "I'm sure you can work your magic on it and it'll be okay."

"I'm glad you have faith in me." He said, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. "I think I could probably salvage it."

She let go of him and he carefully removed the cake from the tin and set to work on removing the near-burnt parts of the cake. He sighed every now and then in frustration as he broke more and more off.

"At this rate we'll just have one little cake ball." He grumbled.

"That wouldn't be so bad," Katniss said, leaning against the counter. She watched him as he managed to piece together the cake, making more and more progress with it. He started to become happier with what he was seeing and she saw his tongue dart between his lips, like he always did when he was concentrating.

"I think this'll be okay." He said. "A little bit of frosting and icing will make it okay, right?"

Katniss nodded in response and licked her lips softly. "Peeta," she began. "You love me, real or not real?"

"That answer will always be real." He replied softly, his eyes warm and welcoming.

She nodded in response, a smile tugging at her lips as she moved to the cake and broke a little bit off. She nibbled some before offering the rest to Peeta.

"Do you love me?" he smirked at her, making sure he kept the cake in his mouth.

She didn't answer to begin with, and instead she closed the distance between them. She pressed a kiss to his lips and could taste the vanilla from the cake. When she parted from him, she lingered so that their lips were brushing against one another. With a breathy smile, she looked up at him through lidded eyes and finally replied to his question. "More than I could have ever imagined I would."

* * *

**And there we have it! I hope you guys enjoyed my first attempt at Everlark! I'd love to know what you thought, so any comments please feel free to send them my way! Thanks for reading! :) **


End file.
